<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Baking by f0rever15elf</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29034627">Baking</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rever15elf/pseuds/f0rever15elf'>f0rever15elf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>2020 December Writing Challenge [17]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Triple Frontier (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Food mention, Other, So much domesticity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:41:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,353</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29034627</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rever15elf/pseuds/f0rever15elf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You attempt to teach Frankie how to bake.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Reader, Francisco "Catfish" Morales/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>2020 December Writing Challenge [17]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2127273</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Baking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Warm cookies and pastries are a couple of Frankie’s favorite things about the holiday season. He has a few of his favorites, he’s a big fan of snicker-doodles and the standard chocolate chip cookie. He’s not a great baker, things going wrong more often than not, but sometimes he just really needs that cookie fix, so he’s figured out how to make them from scratch to be at least semi-edible, but more often than not his cookies are store bought. That is, until you move in with him.</p><p>It doesn’t take long for Frankie to realize that you are an absolute <em>fiend</em> in the kitchen come the holidays. He doesn’t think he’s ever had to buy so much flour or butter before in his life. Not that he’s complaining, because the magic you are able to work in the kitchen is absolutely heavenly. And today? Well, today is the first day of your baking extravaganza for the year. The difference this year? You’ve dragged him into the kitchen and wrapped an apron around his waist, claiming that he’s going to be your assistant this year.</p><p>Now, Francisco Morales has seen active combat. He’s faced down countless life or death situations in his time. But right now, facing you down in the middle of the kitchen surrounded by pounds of flour, sugar, and butter, he’s terrified.</p><p>“C’mon Morales! It’s just a couple dozen cookies! Nothing you can’t handle.” You grin up at him, armed with a wooden spoon and dressed in an apron of your own with ‘kiss the cook’ scrawled across it. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little butter and sugar?”</p><p>“No!” he answers a little too quickly, pulling a giggle from your lips. “I-I mean, no. No, I’m not worried. Just uh…tell me what to do so that they’re…edible.” He grimaces as he remembers his last attempt at baking. He’d had to air out the house for a good two hours to get rid of the smell of smoke.</p><p>“Don’t worry, you’ll do just fine. We’re gonna keep it simple. Chocolate chip cookies first. I know how much you like them.” His whole face lights up when you mention chocolate chip, and he shuffles to the mixer, hands reaching for… something. It’s at that moment that he realizes that he’s not sure about the recipe, normally having followed the instructions on the bag of chips that are usually half-eaten by the time he actually mixes them in. He looks up to you with confusion creasing his brow and you shake your head with a smile, pointing at the book laying open on the counter. “That’s the one we’re using. It’s my favorite.”</p><p>His lips make an ‘o’ shape before he picks up the book, reading it over. Meanwhile, you’re already reaching for the sugars to measure them out. “Hey babe?”</p><p>“Hm?” You don’t look up from your measuring, pouring the white sugar into the bowl before grabbing the brown.</p><p>“You have notes all over this.”</p><p>“Yeah. Baking is a science, Frankie. Most recipes are written for sea level, so you need to tweak a few things to get the recipes to work at other altitudes.” You slide the bowl of sugar over to him with a soft smile as he sets the book down, reaching for the butter to add to the bowl. “I’ve had that book for so long. It has notes from several different places I’ve lived. My cheat sheet, basically. Turn the mixer on low so you don’t sling things out of the bowl.”</p><p>Frankie follows your guidance, adding the sugar and bumping up the speed to cream the mix for a few minutes before you help him measure out the flour. “I’ve never been really good at baking. Cooking, I’m a master if I do say so myself, but baking I’ve never gotten a good handle on.” He waits for you to add the eggs and vanilla before he goes to add the flour, the mixer still whirring at an ill-advised speed. You don’t get a chance to tell him to wait before he dumps in the whole bowl, white powder exploding up out of the mixing bowl, coating your pilot, and the surrounding counter and cabinets, in white. You both stand there for a moment, frozen. Frankie blinking as he looks down at the mixer and you with your mouth open, hand partially extended in a warning that came just a moment too late. When he slowly looks at you, warm brown eyes searching for some sort of reaction, your composure crumbles and you erupt into a fit of giggles, grabbing the counter for support. He coughs, flour puffing around his face and it only encourages you to laugh harder.</p><p>He finally sets down the bowl, turning to face you with a hand braced on the counter with the other on his hip as you stand there wiping the tears of laughter from your eyes. “Y-You good, babe?” you manage out between fits of giggles and he sighs, looking down before tilting his head just enough to slant a glance at you.</p><p>“You know, you’re looking rather clean over there.” Your giggles quiet as he stands up straight, taking a step towards you, mirrored by a backwards step of your own.</p><p>“Frankie…,” you caution, hands extended. “Let’s be rational about this.” Frankie grins at you, still stalking towards you as you slowly make your way around the counter. “No need to be hasty about this, FranKIE!” Your pitch jumps as he darts towards you, you scrambling to get out of his reach in a game of cat and mouse around the center island. But you’re no match for him, his fingers wrapping around your wrist to tug you flush against his chest, coating you in flour as well. You squeal and laugh, trying to squirm out of his arms as he reaches up to dust the flour out of his hair onto your.</p><p>“It’s only fair we match!” he says through his grin and you send a mock glare up at him that he quickly corrects with a kiss to your lips. When he pulls back, there’s a smile where the scowl used to be and he chuckles while you shake your head in amusement.</p><p>“Francisco Morales, you are a menace.”</p><p>“Yes, but you love me for it.”</p><p>“You’re right about that. But as lovely as this is, we have some cookies to finish.”</p><p>He winces at your comment, glancing back over his shoulder to the mixer that’s still dutifully mixing away. “Think we can salvage them?”</p><p>“Nah,” you laugh, pulling from his arms. “But we have plenty of ingredients to make a new batch. Don’t worry babe. By the time we’re done, we’ll have more cookies than you’ll know what to do with.”</p><p>“We’ll just invite the guys over for a party. Won’t have to worry about the cookies then. Lord knows the guys’ll inhale them like it’s their last meal.”</p><p>“I’ll keep an eye on Benny so he doesn’t make himself sick like he did last year on those double chocolate cookies I made.”</p><p>Frankie chuckles, stopping the mixer and taking the bowl to scrape the contents into the trash. “They can’t help it baby. Your baking is addicting.”</p><p>“You’re a little biased, Morales.” It’s said through a grin as you prep a fresh set of ingredients.</p><p>“Oh 100%, but it’s still true. Benny didn’t shut up about your cookies from last year till Halloween.” He pecks your cheek as he moves to rinse out the bowl. “You have a gift for this. It’s true.”</p><p>“You’re sweet, lover.”</p><p>“Not as sweet as you. Maybe that’s why your baked goods are so tasty.”</p><p>Your cheeks burn at his praise, a smile curling your lips as you mumble for him to stop under threat of more flour to the face. Your threat is met only with his joyful laughter and it warms your heart to hear it. You could definitely get used to this, baking with Frankie every holiday season. Something tells you that today is the start of a beautiful new tradition. </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>